


Nudge to Dusk

by whatdidyouexpect



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Deductions, F/M, Humor, Mystery, Romance, holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdidyouexpect/pseuds/whatdidyouexpect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up to the lovely sound of a British government official breaking into her flat, Shailene Haddon is offered a job. To watch over Sherlock Holmes and be his flat mate, in return for a large sum of money. </p><p>How will Sherlock react to meeting his match? Read and find out. </p><p>Updates: Wednesdays/Saturdays</p><p>Hey, please read, it's gonna be a fun story. Promise. Can't promise a romance between them though. But -A- romance will be there. Just won't tell you who with. Ehehehe. But I can't help the cliffhangers, they come naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I was sitting on my couch reading when I heard footsteps outside my apartment. I quickly put my book down and ran into my bathroom to get my gun. When I stepped back out, a man was sitting on my couch, flipping through my book.   
"You should consider sleeping sometime. It's good for you." He muttered, grimacing at the picture on the next page he turned.   
"I don't think Poe is your type." I said and pulled the book from his hands.   
"I agree. Although I do wonder what you are doing up at this time of night." he gave me a look only my mother has ever given me, and stood. "Mycroft Holmes."   
I took his offered hand. "I assume you know who I am."  
"Correctly assuming, as usual." He then walked over to my bookshelf. "I assume you want to know why I am here."  
"Correctly assuming. I would like to know why someone from the British Government is in my apartment." I gave him a pointed look, which he returned. I set my gun on the corner table and set my book over it.   
"What do you want, Mycroft?" I plopped down on my couch and fiddled with a nail file.   
"I want you to watch some one for me."  
"I'm not one of your jockeys to order around." I snapped.   
"I'm not ordering you. I'm offering you a job. A simple job. To watch a man for me, report to me what he does and who he is around. I will you give a new flat, new clothes and a new friend. And it comes with a starting offer of £30,000. And a high monthly salary." He watched me carefully as I thought it over. Why would I need a new friend? I decided to ask.   
"Why would I need a new friend?"  
He nodded. "The man I need you to watch over is," he paused, searching for the right word, "difficult. And he's hard to get close to. He has a friend, his only friend, they were flat mates, but his friend recently got married. He still visits him, frequently actually. So this leaves him alone more than he should be."  
I took one look at him, and knew who he was talking about.   
"Sherlock."  
He gave me an upraising look. "It took you longer than I thought to get it. But I think you'll get along just fine with my brother, dear."  
"If you're trying to play matchmaker you will fail miserably. I don't get on well with people. Especially fellow sociopaths."   
"Oh, so you've heard of him then?"

"Who hasn't?" I stood, dramatically throwing the nail file on the floor. "The great, the one and only, consulting detective! Sherlock Holmes, the mysterious mystery solver. Sherlock Holmes, does he get a high from murders? Does Sherlock Holmes murder them all himself? Sherlock Holmes, thought mass murderer; commits suicide! Holmes, the scandal. Holmes, Alive! Sherlock Holmes is back on the streets! Solving murders or committing them?" I stopped after the latest newspaper headline. "Your brother is the sensation of London. Whether that's a good thing, he can decide for himself. And his little friend, I doubt we would get along. Doctor John Watson." I tested his name out. "As for Sherlock, I haven't the slightest."   
"Well. It would seem you did your research. Your mum would be proud."

I clenched my fist. My mum hated that I wanted to go into detective work. She told me never to speak of it to her. And her demeanor around me had changed. Tense, angry and disappointed.   
"My mum would push me out of her house faster than you can say 'I got a job!'" I laughed sorely. "My mother is not proud of me. She wishes I would be more like my sisters. Pursuing a teaching career or cosmetology or interior design." I laughed again.   
He chuckled a bit. "Ah yes. I forgot about your mother's predisposition to the lady's life."   
He seated himself on my sofa and looked over at me as I dropped unceremoniously beside him. "Do you take my offer?"   
I paused before I answered. "I don't have a choice do I?"  
He chuckled again. "No. I'm afraid you don't. I gave John the choice, and he eventually agreed anyway."

"Hmmm. Just a few things. I know you can't guarantee my safety, so I keep my gun and knives." I paused, thinking. "I don't have to be in a romantic relationship with him. He would see right through that in a second. Anyone would. Um. I get my own room! Those two are extremely important!" I poked his face. "I get my own room if I have to share a flat with him!"   
He pulled away from my hand when I went to poke him again, making my point. "Of course you will have your own room. Unless of course you two get closer and feel the magnetic pull-"   
I stood up. "No! No, stop right there! I accept, but you have to stop talking!"

He laughed again and stood to walk out the door. "Oh, before I forget. He plays the violin. Especially when he's angry or thinking. The address is 221b Baker Street." He smiled at me before walking out and down the stairs.   
I sighed. Might as well start packing. I walked into my room and grabbed my case. As I started packing my few belongings, I thought of how strange it would be. I could barely afford this flat as it was. The extra money would really help. Maybe having/being a flat mate would help too. This was going to be interesting.   
Around four I decided to take a few hours to sleep and flopped down on my couch. I didn't have a bed.   
I woke at seven to a knock on my door. I got up and glanced in the mirror. My hair was a mess. Whatever.   
I opened the door to see my landlord. And immediately slammed it in his face. He stopped the door with his foot, groaning slightly.   
"What do you want?" I yelled, looking around with my back against the door, for something to throw at him.   
"Why are you leaving me?" He growled. You see, my landlord has an infatuation with me. That's the only reason I could afford this place, I had it at half price. But I still barely paid my bills.  
"I got a job offer." What? I'm not lying. Exactly.   
"So you're leaving for another man?" He whined.  
"Yes." Again, partial truth.   
He pushed against the door a bit harder and I launched myself and grabbed my favorite knife. His hand curled around the door as I threw it. It thudded into his hand, keeping his hand closed around the door, he cried out. I yanked the knife out of the door and his hand, and pushed him back. Closing and locking the door, I got a text. 

I'm going to speak to my brother about the arrangements. Do not come until I authorize it. Why is your landlord so obsessed with you?  
-MH

Ugh. Whatever. I leaned back against the door to listen to his footsteps fading down the hallway. I quickly sent a text back, not caring how he'd gotten my number. 

Sure thing. He's a love sick imbecile. His wife left him.   
-sh

I could practically see him laughing as I sent it. 

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sherlock's POV

I sat playing my violin angrily while Mycroft stared at me.   
When I finally stopped because I had realized he wasn't going to leave, I wanted to know why he was here.   
"Why are you here, Mycroft?" I plucked at the strings so he would get it over with and leave sooner.   
"I found you a new flat mate."  
"Who said I was looking?"  
"Who said you weren't?"He stared at me, challenging me to ask who it was. But he kept talking like the prat he is. "I can't have you here alone, dear brother. I do worry about you. And so does mummy for that matter. You know she worries about you."

"Uuuggghhhh!!!!!!!!" Why does he have to bring mummy into this. "Fine, who is he?" I had to know how far Mycroft had scrounged to find a flat mate for me. 

He smiled smugly at me. Who was it?   
"I really think you'll agree with me when I say I found a match for you."  
"How so?" I stood and put my violin back up and began a slow melody. 

"Intellectually, she is almost a perfect match for you."  
I stopped short on a sour note. Mycroft grimaced. "She?" And his grimace turned up.   
"There's always one thing." I muttered, turning to the window.   
"There are sometimes multiple things, brother dear. Do you agree?"

"Agree to what?"

"Having this woman as your flat mate, of course."

"Naturally. I always help those in need." I replied snarkily.   
"Naturally. She will be coming today." He said, rising and walking to the door.   
"But I know nothing of her! Give me something, Mycroft!" I turned to him, curious and exasperated.   
Mycroft stopped and turned. "Then it seems you'll have something to talk about! Her name is Shailene. I'm not giving you her last name. It is simply too much information. And I know you like the chase, Sherlock." He began walking down the stairs, I dropped my violin carelessly on the sofa and followed him.   
"Mycroft! Who is she?"

"Someone you may want to get dressed for."

I looked down at my nightclothes as he walked down the stairs. Nah. "I don't get dressed for Shailene whatever her last name is." 

Mycroft grinned at me. "You should have that on a t-shirt!" He called before walking out into the street.

*************************************

Hey, thanks for reading. Vote, comment or message me if you liked it. Have a great day/night!   
-SH


	2. Chapter 2

Shailene's POV   
Around nine, I got the a text from Mycroft saying it was a go. I was good to leave for 221 b. But I wanted to enjoy my day before confronting my new flat and flat mate.   
I stuck my tongue out at my landlord as I walked out, hauling my case after me. He flashed me his bandaged hand and I laughed evilly.

•

I sat at the cafe down the street from 221b for four hours. I could tell the owner wanted me to leave but I couldn't care less. I watched John and his wife Mary go into the flat. A few hours later, I observed them come out. John was visibly angry, and Mary was laughing.   
When they walked into the café, I opened my laptop and looked busy. 

"John, it's nothing to be angry about." Mary laughed.   
"It's not funny either. He's just sitting there!! Four patches!!! Four patches Mary!!! He's really stumped on who it is! Why can't he just admit he's been beat?" John rage sniffed and played with a sugar cube.   
"You know why he can't. He'll only admit he's been beat when he's dead! You know his pride. Better than anyone else. So you should be used to it."

Turning completely to my computer, I began typing. Still listening to their conversation as Mary changed the subject. 

"Who do you think she is though! She could be anyone." I saw her look around through my peripheral vision. "She could even be here!"   
John turned around and pointed at me. "If it's anyone, I bet it's her." 

"Don't point John, it's rude!" Mary slapped his hand playfully. But got up after the barista delivered them their tea.   
"Can I borrow your honey? I'm afraid I forgot to ask the barista and I haven't got any at my table. And my husband is unwilling." Mary asked sweetly while pointing at John, who scoffed. 

I pointed at the jar with my pencil without looking up.   
"Thank you darling." She scooped it up and sat back down at her table.   
"What do you think? Could it be her?" She asked John. 

"Well, she already acts like Sherlock. Why do you think she has a case with her?"

"Maybe it is her and she's scoping out the flat." Mary giggled. 

"Or maybe she's leaving or just getting back from a long flight." John pointed out. Good deduction. But wrong. Mary's right. As per usual.   
"Excuse me miss, do you want me to take your cup?" A waiter asked, I waved him on and he took it, irritated.   
"See?" John asked her.   
"See what?" 

"She doesn't give the waiter the time of day. Neither does Sherlock."   
Mary deadpanned at him. "Well that's because he's a twit. Maybe she doesn't speak English. Or maybe she doesn't like people."  
"So she would spend her time in a café?" John was asking all the good questions.   
Mary shrugged and they dropped the conversation. Sipping at their tea, they left. I watched them hail a cab, and go home.   
After about two more hours at the café, I paid my bill and got up. I sat outside at a small table and wondered whether I should grab a cab or walk. Eventually, I decided to grab a cab and for a few blocks to the middle of London. Then grab another cab and come back so I could walk down the street. I stood, happy with my plan, and hailed as cab. 

As I hailed my second cab, I saw it was a young woman. I ignored her and told her where to stop. When I got out, I told her, "I'd recommend finding a steady job young lady." And handed her a few extra quid. I wouldn't need them with my new salary coming up. 

As I walked up the street I felt eyes on me. I didn't look up to where I knew he was watching me. He'd been watching everyone who passed by 221b for the last six hours. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked up to the door. 

I knocked politely and the door was answered by an old woman.  
"Hello. Can I help you?" She asked.   
"I'm here about a flat."  
She looked a little surprised, but was still smiling. "Which one dear?"  
"221 b."  
"But that ones taken dear."  
"I'm Sherlock's new flat mate."  
"Oh. Well then, you'd better meet him before you make any rash decisions my dear."  
I laughed and followed her up the stairs. "Trust me Mrs. Hudson. I've though it through. And it's better than where I came from."  
She nodded and knocked on the door, then opened it.   
"Sherlock. Apparently this young lady is here because she's your new-"  
"Flat mate." A deep voice called from with in the flat. "Mycroft set it up. Thinks he's funny."  
"That's nice Sherlock. Now you be nice to her." She waved and walked back down the stairs.   
The figure at the window turned to me. "So. Who are you?"  
"I would ask the same, but I know who you are."  
"Do you? Mycroft told me you were slightly intelligent."  
"Mmm, yes. Slightly."  
He dropped into a plush chair and cocked an eyebrow at me. He gestured for me to sit in the chair across from him. "Would you like to sit?"  
"Please."  
"Tea?"  
"Later. Eating slows me down."  
He laughed and I set my case on the floor ad sat carss from him.   
"Of course it does. What is your name?"  
"Shailene Haddon."  
He leaned forward and scrutinized me, his hands in a praying position at his lips. I sat with my hands folded neatly in my lap and watched his growing confusion.   
"Why can't I read you?"  
"You can, you just aren't looking in the right places. My attire should be a dead giveaway." I spread my hands and leaned into the cushy chair.   
"Private detective."  
"Slow."  
He scoffed.   
"What else is there Sherlock. Observe." I cleared my throat. "You had a childhood dog whose death was hidden from you. You don't have a favorite color but prefer dark colors over bright. You had a close friendship with John. Often closer than most realize. Of course Moriarty knew that. You have a passion for your work and love Mrs. Hudson dearly. Your brother doesn't play the violin, can't actually. So whenever he comes over, you make it a point to play it. A pleasant pass time is composing and simply thinking quietly. You have another head in the fridge and multiple experiments in the microwave. You've been clean for a while, but you're leaning towards that again in your loneliness. Let's stay there for a moment. You claim to be a high functioning sociopath, but care deeply for the immediate people around you. Now that John's left, you can't help but be saddened by his departure. Anderson's getting on your nerves again." I finished and sat back.

He stared at me for a few moments, before calling out. "Mrs. Hudson, I'm going out. Make sure john knows I've gone out if he comes by."  
"Where are you going Sherlock?" She asked, appearing at the door.   
"I have a pressing engagement." He answered and moved swiftly to his room.   
"He wasn't too bad was he?" She asked me.  
Sherlock swept out of his room in a dress shirt and slacks. "Of course I wasn't. It was her."  
I grinned slyly and got up.   
Mrs. Hudson looked confusedly between us, before shrugging and going back down.   
He pulled on his coat, scarf and gloves.   
"Well. Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to grab your coat?"  
I stood and took my coat from the coat rack.   
"Are you sure you want to come? Could be dangerous."  
"Isn't that what you told John?"  
"I also asked him if he wanted to see some more violence."  
"Better get going or Lestrade's going to wonder where you've been. You haven't taken a case in a while."   
He gave me a strange look, and swept out the the flat. I followed close behind. 

***********************************

Hey. Did you like it? Is it good? Will they work? Thank you for reading!!!  
Have a great day!! I love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Because I got a comment from a lovely reader, I'm updating early here. Not on wattpad though, cause there are literally 5 reads. Yeah. Anyway, enjoy! If you can't tell, I love feedback from my readers. :D

"Are the cabs always this cramped?" She complained as Sherlock's tall frame had her a bit squished against the side of the car.  
"Well, since John is so short, his stature fit neatly beside mine. If you would simply straighten your shoulders and angle your legs toward mine, it would be a perfect fit." He replied. She gave him a look, but changed her position and found she did fit perfectly in the cramped seat.  
"When are we going to get there?" Sherlock asked the cabby. Traffic was terrible this afternoon. The cabby shook his head and muttered something unintelligible. Sherlock dug in his pocket, handed the man a few bills and climbed out of the cab. He grabbed Shailene's hand to pull her out quickly as the cab began to move again.  
"We can get there faster on foot. It's only a couple blocks." He said, moving along swiftly.  
"Why doesn't Lestraude know about you?" He asked, turning on her suddenly before they rounded the final corner to the offices.  
"Because I know how to cover my tracks. I may have been a private detective, but I was only contacted through sources and false names."  
"Why should I believe you?"  
"Why not Mr. Holmes?" She purred, slipping off one of his gloves to swat his face with it. "I mean, it was your brother who came to me offering a job. Was it not?"  
"You're getting paid to be my flat mate?"  
"Of course. It's not like I had anything going for me. This was opportune really."  
"How do I know your not lying?" He snatched his glove back before she could smack him a fourth time.  
"Use your eyes Sherlock. Use that brain in there. It's obvious. We can split the fee if you'd like. It's quite a sum. £30,000."  
"Are you bribing me?"  
"Of course not. You've gone soft!"  
He growled lowly before turning away from her and ruffling his hair a bit.  
"Why would you split the fee with me? You haven't even known me for a day."  
"Because I know you like to take cabs. Cabs get expensive after a while."  
"That's not true."  
"Very good."  
"What's the real reason?"  
"There really isn't a good enough reason to tell you my reason. Come on! Lestraude will be wondering where you are."  
She looped her arm through his and walked the rest of the way to the station.  
"Who's that Freak? You're new girlfriend?" Donovan asked as Sherlock and Shailene walked past, arms still linked.  
"No." He answered.  
"Why do you let her call you that?" Shailene asked.  
"Why not? If that's how she sees me, then she can have her small moment of victory as she sees it."  
They both grinned at that and continued to Lestrade's office. Sherlock didn't knock, before waltzing in.  
"Ah Sherlock. I was wondering when you'd drop in! I have a case for you. Ah, who's this?"  
"Shailene Haddon." She answered shortly, unlinking her arm from Sherlock's.  
"Hello." He replied, somewhat confused. "Anyway. This missing persons case. It's gotten a bit out of hand."  
"And you want me to make it all better?" Sherlock asked.  
"If you can. Because finding people really isn't my division."  
"Of course. Where's the scene?"  
"You mean scenes? Everywhere. We can't tape them off, because they were all taken in broad daylight. Any of them in the park."  
"What profiles do you have?"  
"None. It's just random people that go missing. One second, they're there, the next they're gone! We have multiple eye witnesses and no confirmed reports on who took them."  
"Of course you don't."  
"Oh go to the scene. I can't help you anymore. I'm drowning in paper work. Anderson can tell you where it is."  
They all grimaced as they looked toward the overly excited man flipping through a folder.  
"Er, here." Lestraude jotted down the address on a sheet of paper and handed it to Sherlock. He scanned it and pocketed it.  
"Are you sure you won't be joining us?" Sherlock asked.  
"I'm due to be there in twenty minutes."  
"Good."  
And with that they swept out of the station.  
"Why do people stare?" Shailene asked.  
"Because they don't know what's good for them."  
"Alright." She stuck her hands in her pockets. Sherlock looked down at her. What a strange woman. He thought.  
"Why are you staring Sherlock?"  
"Because I don't know what's good for me." He answered, looking away after a moment. "Dinner?"  
"Starved."

*

They sat at a table, not ordering anything or saying anything. Angelo came over to their table.  
"What can I get for you tonight Mr. Holmes? On the house."  
"Oh no. We won't be having anything tonight. Maybe another time."  
"Yes yes. Another time then." Angelo winked at Shailene before walking away. Maybe Sherlock swung both ways. He thought. Good for him. 

"How much longer?" Shailene asked. "This is terribly boring."  
"You never had to do much as a Private Detective. Consulting Detectives are much different."  
"Obviously. I thought you were the only one?" She leaned forward.  
He leaned in a bit too. "That doesn't mean I can't have some help sometimes."  
"I thought you never needed help." She asked innocently.  
"Did Mycroft tell you that? You may want to watch your sources." They both leaned back as police cars rushed past the restaurant. "Best be off. Come along."  
"Did something make you think I wasn't coming?"  
"Of course not. Just making sure."  
"Of course." She smirked and they walked up to Lestraude. He was standing inside a newly double taped area. One around the scene, and one further back so people couldn't see the bodies.  
"I thought it was on the other side?" She asked Sherlock.  
"It was. This is new."  
Lestraude looked up at them and waved them in. Donovan and Anderson throwing looks the whole time.  
"You're later than usual." Lestraude commented.  
"What is this?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the jibe.  
"A crime scene, obviously." He answered.  
"Obvioulsly. I meant 'this'." he said, plucking a piece of paper off the ground. It had small words enscribed on it. Sherlock tucked it in his pocket to examine later.  
"There's something strange about these bodies." Shailene observed, crouching to get a better look. All five were covered in a thin layer of dust, and under that, wax.  
"That's not the only strange thing. All these people were on the missing persons list." Lestraude remarked, folding his arms across his chest.  
Sherlock's head shot up. "What did you say?"  
"I said, these people were all on the missing persons list." He repeated firmly. "I'd just hate to be the officer to report that their family members were found."

***********************************

Bam! Chapter! Did you like it? What's on that paper? Oooooo! You'll find out next chapter!!  
I love you all! Thank you so much for reading! Have a great day/night!!!  
-SH


	4. Chapter 4

"Yes. That would be a terrible job." Sherlock muttered, his hand closing around the note in his pocket.  
"What's that?" Lestraude asked.  
"Nothing. See here? This one was asphyxiated. That one was drowned. And the one to the furthest left was stabbed. But the one in the middle is the key. (See what I did there? A/N) there are whip marks, and small stab wounds, besides the late one on the right thigh, and multiple bruises along the length of the entire body." He trailed off tugging off his glove. He drew a pen out of his coat and slowly lifted the mans' jacket. But it stuck to him like glue. The wax was keeping the clothing on like tape on a window.  
"That's problematic." He muttered, snatching a pocket knife out of a passing officer's pocket.  
He then proceeded to cut the wax and lift the jacket. As it lifted, a foul smell lifted out. Everyone covered their noses and Sherlock pulled out an envelope. It was the source. He threw it into an evidence bag and lifted the jumper once more. After shining a flashlight over the mans shirt, he found what he was looking for. The rest of the note. He quickly took it, folded it and slipped it in his pocket with the rest of the note. 

Shailene spotted this, but said nothing. She only smiled quietly to herself and folded her arms as she watched him stand and flit from body to body. Much to the disgust of Anderson and Donovan.  
She absently rubbed her fingers together, feeling the dust still trapped between them. But something was off. She looked down at her hands. Then at the bodies. The dust was far too dark and splotched along the bodies to be dust. Crouching, she looked closer. Ashes. She concluded.  
"Sherlock." She called. He immediately turned to her.  
"What have you found?" He asked excitedly.  
"The dust on theses bodies isn't dust. It's ashes." her declaration left everyone speechless.  
"The ashes of what?" Sherlock asked quietly.  
No one answered. Because Sherlock had just before announced that it was Moriarty's work. Ashes and Moriarty don't bode well. For anyone.  
"Well then." Sherlock announced. "We'll be off then."  
"But you haven't solved it!" Lestraude exclaimed.  
Sherlock linked arms with a shocked Shailene and pulled her to her feet  
"Let's go home." He whispered quietly, and led her to the street.  
Shailene cleared her throat. "I apologize. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions and then freeze in the middle of everything."  
"It's nothing. Really. Don't be concerned. You'll feel better after a nap."  
"A nap?"  
"Yes. A nap."  
"What?"  
"You're going to take a nap. And the. We're going back out. Okay?"  
"Okay."  
Sherlock hailed a cab and they sat in silence, Shailene's head drooping onto his shoulder like she'd been drugged. Wait. Sherlock suddenly, but gently, grabbed her chin and she opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated to the point of her irises disappearing.  
Sherlock swore.  
"No. I hate when this happens."  
The cab pulled over in front of 221 b and Sherlock jumped out and pulled her out after him. She stumbled onto the curb and he put and arm around her waist.  
As he helped her up the stairs, she started mumbling.  
"Wait! Wait, wait, wait! I don't have a place to sleep!"  
"Nonsense."  
"Nooo. No no no no no no. It's true. I didn't even unpack this morning."  
"It's fine Shailene."  
"No it isn't."  
"You will sleep in a bed tonight."  
"No, it's okay. I'll sleep on the couch. It looks really comfy anyway. The cushions are all fluffy and old looking." She sighed.  
"No. You will sleep in a bed. You'll sleep in my bed. You can unpack tomorrow."  
"But where will you sleep?"  
"You've been drugged. I'll watch over you tonight. I won't sleep."  
She gave him a confused look as her knees collapsed beneath her.  
"Why does this always happen?" He muttered under his breath as he swept her into his arms fully. Her progress up the stairs was too slow anyway.  
"Oh dear Sherlock. What happened?" Mrs. Hudson asked from behind him.  
"Small incident at the scene. Shailene was drugged sometime today. Nothing to worry about."  
"I'd say that's something to be worried about."  
Sherlock laughed and pushed through the door to the flat.  
"Goodnight Mrs. Hudson."  
"Goodnight you two."  
He chuckled and closed the door with his foot.  
Sherlock nudged his bedroom door open and gently dumped Shailene onto his bed. He removed her jacket and shoes and gloves, setting them by the bed.  
She rolled over and thrashed out at Sherlock. He ducked and grabbed her arm, pushing it under the blankets. She continued her delirious mutterings as he walked out of the room. He hurried into the lounge, grabbed her case and brought it into John's old room. He looked at the bare bed and set the case on it.  
Remembering his mum as a child with a fever, he went into the kitchen. After searching a bit, he grabbed a clean wash cloth from the kitchen and ran it under cold water from the sink. When he came back into his room, she was fully asleep but still mumbling every now and then. He gently set the cold cloth on her forehead. She grimaced and tore it off.  
"No." He mumbled, picking it up off the floor and setting it back on her forehead. Only to have her throw it off again. They followed this latter of her throwing it off and Sherlock placing it back on her head, before Sherlock finally gave in.  
"This is not how it goes." He said to her sleeping form. "I am helping you. And you will let me help you Shailene." And with that, he wrapped her up in the sheets so she couldn't move her arms and set he rag on her head again. She groaned and her nose pinched up but she didn't throw it off again.  
Sherlock stayed up for the next ten hours changing her cloths, and making sure she kept cool. She only woke up at one point, at which she said something to make Sherlock rethink letting her stay.  
"I didn't really like the way you looked in the papers. You never showed your whole face or was wearing that dopey hat with two fronts. I like you much better in person." She had said,and proceeded to grab his face and bring it in close to hers. "Your eyes are so..." But she had fallen back into her feverish sleep before she could finish what she was saying.  
Sherlock didn't know what 'dopey' meant, but he knew he never much liked the deer stalker hat. It'd never made much sense to him. Why should a hat have two fronts? It's completely nonsensical.  
Although, he thought, why would someone drug Shailene? And how? He quickly ran through the options and decided it was the ashes on one of the bodies. He clearly remembered her crouching on the ground and rubbing a bit of the ash/dust between her fingers. He pulled out his phone to text Lestraude.  
The ashes on one or all of the bodies contains a drug, contaminant or toxin. It doesn't seem fatal, only fever causing so far. Please investigate. And don't let Anderson touch anything.  
SH  
He sent it off, feeling a little more confident than before. This was the work of Moriarty. Or one of his thugs, as he preferred not to dirty his hands. Metaphorically and physically.  
His phone buzzed. (He'd switched the sound Irene'd put on there long ago.)

I'm not even going to ask how you know that. Of course I'll check it out. And no, Anderson won't touch anything.  
Lestraude

Satisfied, Sherlock set his phone down and stared at her. She was so odd, but seemingly familiar to him. He shook his head and put it in his hands. Sherlock didn't want to admit it, but he was getting a bit tired. Maybe if he just...  
The thought remained unfinished as he slumped in the hard chair at Shailene's bedside. Or rather, his bed with a woman in it. 

***********************************  
Hello and thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! By the way, I entered it into the Wattys.  
Have a great night/day!! I love you all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting a new story called 'Balcutta' and I'm not putting it up here, only on wattpad. Sorry. If you want to read it, it will be up within the next few days! You can use wattpad without an account by the way.  
> It's about a Lady who doesn't fit in as a Lady of the Royal court. And when her manor is attacked by a neighboring country, starting a war, she slips away in the confusion with a man she met a ball.  
> But when she's on his ship, she realizes he's a pirate, but stays because she wanted an adventure anyway.  
> It will contain romance and adventures and humor. I promise it's going to be good. I love you all, and have a great day/night!! And be safe!!!


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a bit short, so so so sorry guys. Please enjoy. (There's an apology at the end.)

Shailene winced and shut her eyes tighter against the sun in her face. She rolled over and snuggled deeper into the great smelling blankets. Before she realized she didn't remember getting home last night. Where was she? She shot up. But her vision was clouded. When it cleared, she realized she was in fact back in 221 b, but in a strange room. She assumed it was Sherlocks, was he was asleep in a chair by the bed. His bed. She didn't know how in the world she had gotten home, or what had happened after she had blacked out.  She crept out of the bed and the room. Once into the parlor, she could breathe a little better. 

Something caught her eye as she walked past the sofa. Turning to it, an envelope lay on the cushions. It was addressed to her.  She picked it up and examined it. 

SHAILENE HADDON

Was written in a neat, but big scrawl on the envelope. Thinking nothing of it, she tore open the paper.

Dear Shailene,

I find it interesting that you and Sherlock get along so well, I really do. And that can end badly for other, ordinary people. But you are something else. It's no wonder Sherlock has let you become one of his silly little friends. 

Ever since John left, Sherlock hasn't been himself. You being there has helped him marvelously. I do hope you two enjoy the little game I've arranged for you. It really is a stumper isn't it? I rather like games. Do you Shailene? It's hard to believe you don't, considering you were a Private Detective. But now you and Sherlock are solving crimes together. How dreadful.

You know, I always was a little jealous of John's relationship with Sherlock. Then he left, and I was bored. But now you're here, and I like you. I think it's about time to get myself a friend. I mean, Sebby's great, but he's not always the most talkative. I think you and I would have fun. It can be your choice for now, but if you don't make up your mind soon, I'm coming for you Flower. 

X     J. Moriarty

 

Shailene set down the letter with trembling hands. A scrap of paper fell out of the envelope and she bent down and grabbed it warily. It was a photo of her at the café, drinking her tea. On the back was a note. 

Always watching darling.

X    J. Moriarty

PS

Don't tell Sherlock and I'll give you two weeks to decide. 

 

The photo and note fell out of her hand and any remaining confidence was shattered. She sank onto the floor, realizing that it wasn't Sherlock that had left the letter on the couch. Someone else had done it, she only hoped it was Mrs. Hudson.  A tear slipped down her cheek as she held her knees to her chest.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I realize it's short, but it's a significant part that I wanted by itself. I'm super sorry for not updating for forever. But I recently bought a tablet (with an amazing keyboard that has 500 Gb!) and so it should be easier to update and write. I love you all!!! Have a fantastic day/night!!!

Don't forget to tell me if you like it! Because I love feedback and it honestly makes me feel wonderful when people talk to me on here. I love it when you guys comment.


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